Furyan
by TattoosOnTattoos
Summary: Riddick, a dangerous outlaw, and Xen, an energy reaper, fight for their lives in the second installment of Scarier Monsters. A powerful new enemy will be met, and the strength of their characters will be tested. Can they persevere? Makes more sense if you read Scarier Monsters first, but works as a standalone as well. Chronicles of Riddick universe. Riddick X OC
1. The Guts

1 – The Guts

Xen tightened the final bolt on the dripping pipe with a grunt and wiped the sweat from her brow. The work was long, tedious, and foreign. She wasn't used to dealing with the plumbing on any kind of craft let alone a hauler like this one, but for the past few weeks on _The_ _Longshot_ that was all she had been doing. A smear of grease from her hand remained on her forehead but she didn't notice and wouldn't care if she did. Long ago had she abandoned the notion of cleanliness aboard the carrier, two months, in fact. She was counting.

From the moment their skiff's door opened to _The_ _Longshot's_ bay beyond, the nine survivors of the wretched planet M6-117 knew they had not been saved by friends. When they had all been disarmed at gunpoint a trollish thug declared that they were now wards of Sector 48Y. These sectors were neutral territories of space, where no laws were enacted. Scattered throughout the galaxy they were remote, vast, and cold, and made the perfect gathering sites for pirates and others who dealt in dangerous business. Civilian ships and standard carriers skirted around these areas if they ever came close, as they valued both their cargo and lives, but sometimes an unlucky few strayed beyond the borders.

Xen's initial reaction when their ship was invaded was to defend the group. They hadn't escaped the horrors of that place to be ushered instantly into another. Too many had died and she wasn't going to risk more. Common sense intervened though; what good would a fight be when they were obviously outnumbered, outgunned, etc.? Better to go quietly now and think of a decent plan of escape later. A pair of burning silver eyes agreed.

They were to be provided shelter and rations in exchange for work done aboard the vessel. Xen had breathed a huge sigh of relief at this; that was nothing. At the very least she had expected interrogation and then some degree of torture as these areas were not known for their hospitality or friendliness. Stories of Necromongers patrolling these empty zones had particularly chilled her blood.

However, they were in luck. The vessel was leaving this Sector and moving into civilian territory. Word had spread that morning. She had no idea where they were going to end up as they weren't given that information, but it was told that it was going to be a matter of months. For being scooped up by glorified cargo haulers, they hadn't been dealt a bad hand.

The ship's crew called it The Guts. Like the innards of a beast the huge section was fetid and carried a sour stench that clung greedily to hair and clothes. A positive labyrinth, the bowels of _The Longshot_ ran two miles down the length of the enormous cargo hauler and was responsible for pumping thousands of gallons of water throughout the vessel.

The bright white light of her headlamp briefly illuminated the humid corridor she was standing in as she dropped her wrench carelessly into a metal toolbox by her feet. The area was dank and dripping. Rusting pipes flanked each side of a grated ramp that stretched on into the darkness before her. They groaned with churning water, the effect similar to throaty gargling. Steaming vents hissed constantly. It had taken Xen a week to get used to the sound. This corridor was only one of thousands that filled the ship's belly up ten stories. The ramp was part of a scaffold that wound up through the pipes, a terrifying perch for anyone who dared venture to the edge. If she looked over she would see only inky blackness below and more pipes that could barely be seen across a few yards of shadows.

Xen felt as if she were in another world as she worked, in some kind of metal swamp that never saw the light of day. She quickly learned that wearing as little clothing as possible was crucial for surviving here without suffocating, which was fine with her as she worked alone. Suspenders held up a pair of black canvas shorts that were just a little too big for her, revealing shapely legs, and a gray sleeveless shirt hugged her torso tightly from sweat. Auburn hair that usually hung to her chin was plastered to her face and neck from the humidity. Wishing to avoid too many eyes when she reached the civilian levels again, she had a baggy spare cardigan tucked into her toolbox.

Trying to ignore the sheen of sweat on her skin she packed up the rest of her tools and began to make her way to the cage elevator that waited at the other end of the corridor. The confining space pressed in on her like a slowly closing vice, making her nerves itch. She was more or less used to the small spaces she had to work in – weeks of being in this damp dungeon forced her to – but she still eagerly awaited the end of every shift.

Her heavy steel-toed boots made her footfalls clank loudly on the metal grate, becoming distorted as they echoed through the pipes. Each step seemed heavier than the last; this repair shift had been a long one and she was near desperate to get back to her small apartment sixteen levels up and take a remnant of a shower. However even though her work day was over her work tonight was far from done, as the small piece of paper in her pocket reminded her. She needed to speak to Riddick.

The elevator was almost in sight when she heard a sneering voice call through the mist.

"Why, look what we have here, it's the reaper lady herself."

Recognizing the drawling accent, she grimaced and tightened her shoulders but didn't stop moving. She should have known. Her reaper senses were dulled by the dampness and were almost at human levels. To be at full power she needed sunlight, fresh air, and constant sources of energy. None of the above was being readily provided. As she thought this his energy prickled as it drifted over her skin, wild and feral, and her cells sung with hunger.

"I'd better get Wahls," she managed to call back, finally seeing the hazy outline of the elevator and figure within. She kept her voice confident and controlled. "Looks like his dog ran away again."

The man inside chuckled lowly. The sound of metal screeching on metal was heard as he pulled open the cage door. The elevator was also steel grate and small. Not exactly the best place to be face to face with an unpleasant merc.

"Oh, I'm not a biter," he growled, his grin showing through his voice. "And I was sent by the captain to play fetch. It stinks down here so let's make this snappy."

Xen walked up to the elevator and put a hand on her hip. There was a muted blue light inside the cage, shining from the inside and framing the man's figure in a hazy halo. She raised her head and shone her bright headlamp directly into his face, revealing a scruffy beard, brown curly hair, and could-be-handsome features before he cursed and cowered away from the light. He was dressed in a long leather trench coat and steel-toed boots like hers, except her hips weren't slung with a baton and heavy plasma gun. She glanced at them before he straightened, glowering.

"Do that again and I _will_ bite. Get in the fucking elevator."

"Too pushy, Toombs," Xen replied with a shrug, stepping around him into the cage. "You'll never get a girl with that kind of attitude."


	2. The Barrel

2 – The Barrel

Of all the mercs currently aboard _The Longshot_ Xen despised this one the most. Toombs' idea of value was what he could sling over his shoulder and sell, something that made her lip curl just as much as his stench; stale cigarettes and dirty leather. His uncomfortable habit of sizing her up with his tongue between his teeth had been rubbing on her nerves for weeks and she was one who prized decency above all else. This man was little more than a slug. Lucky for her he was just like them, a prisoner.

Toombs grumbled more curses under his breath as he slammed the metal door shut, locking them in with a bandaged hand. Reaching up with the other he pulled a handle on the wall and with an unsettling rumble the elevator began to rise into the thick warm blackness. His bristling energy closed around her like a fog.

"How's the finger holding up? Looks like Riddick didn't pull it out like he should have," Xen sneered.

A dull flush crept up Toombs' face and he smirked, casually giving her the finger with his good hand.

"So what does the captain want with me tonight?" Xen asked. She leaned against the side of the cage and crossed her arms. Captain Wahls had called Xen up to his quarters at least once a week since she had been picked up, sometimes for small jobs around the ship, errand running, sometimes to play cards. Cut from a different cloth than his thug crewmen, Wahls was gentlemanly and seemed stuck out of time. Circumstance had forced him to adopt a pirate lifestyle and his fair management quickly landed him Captain, a blessing for the nine survivors, including Xen.

His hobbies were varied; old-fashioned watch repair was a favorite, but he was also particularly fond of a strategic card game called Barquot. Many times he had invited Xen to play with him, as he seemed fond of her company and sharp mind and didn't even mention anything about her being a reaper. Something she wasn't used to. A healthy distrust kept her wary of these get-togethers as she always suspected treachery, but she figured she might as well play along at least for the time being. From her visits she was learning valuable information, enough that perhaps one day it would help everyone escape.

Despite her previous taunt Toombs managed to look her up and down shamelessly, a grin spreading across his face. Xen took a good guess at what was going on behind it and deeply considered smoking him in the face with her metal toolbox.

"Didn't say. Just mentioned he had something to give you."

Her tired brain strained at what that could possibly be.

"Well he's going to have to wait a little longer, I have something to do."

A knowing look sneaked onto Toombs' face.

"He knows about Riddick, girlie. He knows about these little secret meetings you're having during shift changes. Cozy," he sneered. "Not that it matters. He also knows Riddick is the most wanted fuck in this sector and just cause he hasn't done anything about it yet doesn't mean he won't."

Xen smiled, straight faced.

"Actually I was going to the ration kiosk to pick up tampons. But nice try."

The merc paled, averted his eyes, and said nothing more.

XXX

The elevator shook as it rose into cooler air, pricking at Xen's nerves almost as much as Toombs was. The ride to the next level of the ship was a crawling ten minutes, far too long to be in the company of a merc who wasn't taking advantage of his shower tokens.

They shuddered up into a shaft of yellow light. It seemed to come from everywhere and stung her eyes. Blinking like a newborn creature she saw the vast expanse before her and felt the familiar tug of awe in her chest. As much as she detested being a prisoner on board, she had to admit that the ship was an impressive one.

The crew apparently had a thing for nicknames for they called the enormous cargo bay The Barrel. This immense section was similar to The Guts in that it seemed to span on forever. The soaring ceiling dissolved into blackness where massive nets could just be seen suspended above them, swaying ever so slightly with the movement of the ship. Intended for massive transport, their ropes were thick as tree trunks.

As for _The Longshot's_ cargo itself it filled the whole area almost up to the ceiling where the nets hung. Crates, metal chests, polymer transport containers, boxes of all shapes and sizes, and strange machines were just a few items currently stored. They came from all across the galaxy, goods of every kind. Weaponry, foods, clothing, equipment, and even smaller land transports like gliders and low-altitude fliers made up more of the assortment.

Hundreds of crewmen and 'guests' alike were moving about the area as if it were a high-strung office, clipboards and all. Some were even in suits. They seemed to be organizing smaller cargo, preparing for incoming shipments, and other sundry errands. The place was packed with the sounds of shouting orders, chains clanking, and of course the deep mechanical hum from the engines. For the amount of people it was surprisingly cool. The air was much more pleasant up on this level.

To either side of their elevator many others spanned on, coming and going while lineups gathered in front of them. Toombs yanked open their own elevator door and people immediately began filing in, forcing them out into the loading area. He grabbed Xen's arm before they were separated by the crowd, his fingers digging in painfully.

"Wahls expects you in ten, reaper. Don't make me into a liar."

This level was where Wahls' apartment was located. It was a simple flat tucked into the wall on the second story. He had a far larger living space in the upper levels but Wahls had told Xen that he preferred to spend most of his time down below. Something about the air being easier to breathe. Despite not trusting him she appreciated that about him. It showed he was different.

Xen hissed in reply and pulled herself out of Toombs' grasp, yellow eyes alight. She gave him a scathing look before allowing herself to be swallowed by the mass of people. Guy was on a goddamn power trip from being Wahl's lapdog and Xen was sick of it. As she joined the flow of warm bodies she fantasized about various ways to kill him, or at least seriously injure. The thoughts brought a smile to her face and she relished the day she returned to power. It didn't last long before the fantasy dissolved through a jaw-cracking yawn.

Prisoner shifts worked in ever-changing cycles that kept them tired and disordered. Xen had been working nights for two weeks straight but was then switched with a day's notice onto early mornings, a complete turnaround of hours. Still, Riddick and Xen had been finding just enough time during shift switches to secretly get a few words in together, mostly to try and plan a way out. It had to be in a different place every time; Toombs wasn't Wahls' only lapdog and as kind as he was he kept a sharp eye on his prisoners and they couldn't risk developing any kind of pattern. Toombs was probably just bluffing when he said that the Captain knew. He had to have been.

Choosing to ignore the headaches that came with barely any sleep, Xen knew she had precious time before her meeting with the Captain and she had to use it wisely. The place was absolutely bursting with people forming traffic lines and intersections. At the moment she was shouldered between a sweaty man talking loudly into an earpiece and an elderly woman carrying a crate of sparking equipment. Looking like small metal tennis balls, they were giving off sharp trills and emitting small clouds of gritty smoke every so often. They gave Xen an idea.

"Bad roombas?" She offered, speaking loudly over the din.

The old lady gave a barking laugh.

"They're pipe inspectors. Roll 'em in there and they can tell you anything you need to know on the inside. These got wet and were dropped on a live wire, poor bastards. Off to the compressors they are."

They seemed to spark and chirp in response.

"Do you mind if I take one?" Xen asked.

The woman looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"You're not the first to want them - someone just took an entire crate off my hands not ten minutes ago. I can't understand it, they're useless things, completely non-functional. Not that I minded really, these old hands aren't what they used to be and my back is stiff as a board -"

Cutting through the old woman's babble, Xen eagerly grabbed two from her and tucked them into her toolbox. Seeing an opening in the crowd, she moved towards it.

"Thanks very much!"

"Makes my load lighter," the woman shrugged as Xen left, "but they'll explode if you drop 'em, so just be careful!"

XXX

The crowd finally thinned out when it reached the end of the section.

Xen was now in one of the loading docks, a separate area just off from the main cargo bay where the trading portals were located. Another massive section, it was the main area for cargo delivery and boasted a row of huge hydraulic doors that lined the right wall. These were literally doors to other worlds, perfect for trading illegal materials and smuggling equipment. Over twenty feet high and just as wide, they could be opened to anywhere like some kind of intergalactic face-time call, except these calls could send and receive cargo as well.

All were open and different environments could be seen through each transparent shimmering forcefield. One showed the inside of a small star-jumper where only a couple of boxes were being unloaded, watched over by its burly captain with a narrow eye. Another showed a luscious valley with a soaring blue sky into which workers were loading crates the size of small boulders. A quaint village could just be seen nestled in the hills beyond, soaked in sunlight. Another door simply showed blackness. Workers weren't filing in and out of this one but were instead hucking crates inside where they disappeared as if down a well.

One might think these doorways apt methods of escape – but they would be wrong. Whereas one had relative safety within the walls of _The Longshot_ reinforced by rules and worker regulations, the worlds beyond these portals were less forgiving. Many times they led to other ships, ships that usually did not take well to outsiders or carry-ons. If a worker decided to commit mutiny and try his luck with one of those he was risking actual imprisonment, torture, or death. Most of the time it was death. Pirates didn't deal well with mutineers of any kind.

If a worker thought that perhaps another planet would be better than a smuggling ship they would be hunted down by Wahls' thugs before they could run fifty feet through a portal. That pretty valley was as good as nonexistent.

Xen, having long ago abandoned the idea of escape through the portals, quickly and quietly made her way to the far end of the area where some cargo was being piled by the wall. Secrecy and swiftness was key. She knew they only had moments to speak before their absence was realized; this ship ran a tight schedule.

She found an obliging crate that was well-hidden from the open area and folded her knees to her chest. Out of her shorts' pocket she pulled the scrap piece of paper that Riddick had pressed into her hand two days ago. He had left it with a wink and the unspoken promise that they would meet again soon, and it had been burning a hole in that pocket for those two days. She had read and reread what was scribbled on it countless times. He had surprisingly elegant handwriting.

 _Bad weather in a couple days._

What else could he be referring to but a cargo portal? He had been stationed there since they were captured and had spent two long months loading and unloading goods from every gritty corner this galaxy had to offer. The only weather anyone experienced aboard _The Longshot_ was through those portals, and what amazing weather it could be. Riddick told Xen he once witnessed the transportation of goods to a world where lightning fell from the sky like rain and another where perpetual tornadoes twisted slowly and harmlessly as they made their way along the countryside. She could only imagine what bad weather might mean.

As if on cue, a deafening crack sounded.

Xen whipped her head around just in time to see one of the far portals explode. Flames burst from the archway, crackling loudly as they licked their way up the sides of the portal, giving off greasy smoke. Workers who had been retrieving goods from within were thrown backwards as if yanked by puppet strings, landing with surprised 'oomphs!" a dozen feet back. Thick black fumes followed in waves.

Alarm raced through Xen's system at the chaos that was quickly ensuing – workers were scattering and stumbling over abandoned cargo crates in their attempt to get away from the conflagration. It was quickly replaced with realization. This had to be what Riddick was talking about.

Abandoning her attempt at anonymity she leapt from the crate. He had to be here. Looking around wildly she only saw workers fleeing everywhere, shouting, with the fire still poured from the portal. Where was he? Six foot tall, made of muscle, well-goggled - the man was hard to miss.

Distracted for a moment by another burst of flame, she didn't notice the large figure approaching until it was too late. One of the workers, a particularly ugly grunt, grabbed her roughly by the neck and slammed her into the wall.

Exquisite pain exploded in the back of her head and she gave a gasp of shock. Nauseating dizziness accompanied it and rolled down her body in a sickening wave. She scrabbled weakly at the hand that gripped her. Her lack of energy was proving to be a severe disability; she would have been able to fight him off with no difficulty if she had been at full capacity.

"Tell me what you did and maybe I'll let you live," he sneered, cruel beady eyes alight. "You should have been running and not admiring your handiwork, scum."

His face was rough and weathered and his breath was putrid. Obviously he thought she had somehow caused the explosion. His dirty fingers were digging painfully into her neck and his odor was making her gag. She didn't have time for this - Riddick was waiting somewhere and this idiot had her pinned against the wall like a damn butterfly on display.

She had just begun to choke when there was a sudden flash of steel and a spurt of warm blood dashed across her face. The grunt staggered backwards screaming, clutching an arm that bore a wide gash down to the bone. The smell was thick and tangy.

Riddick caught Xen before she slid down the wall.

"The amount of times I've saved your ass, girlie, you owe me one."

She could have kissed him.


	3. The Captain

3 – The Captain

Riddick examined the marks on Xen's neck with a frown. The thug had left bruises that were just beginning to turn purple. It was an ugly reminder that while they were given relative safety aboard _The_ _Longshot_ they still weren't immune to injury inflicted by the other passengers. Such it was on a cargo hauler that bore illegal materials and hardened lawbreakers. Xen brushed him off with a smirk.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, you know. I would have been able to take of care of myself."

It was Riddick's turn to grin.

"Next time I see someone strangling you then, I'll leave you alone."

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

They were on a small landing halfway up to the captain's quarters. The wooden stairs were encased in a rickety shaft that ran a dozen feet up from the floor of the Barrel, lit sparsely by iron lanterns hanging from the walls that bathed them in a warm yellow glow. Dark shadows were cast on their faces. It was swelteringly hot in the cramped area and they were both sweating. The light shone on Riddick's skin, making the moisture that clung to him glisten like oil. All he wore was a simple black tank and cargos that revealed thick cords of muscle that would make a nun look twice. He took up a large portion of the landing which didn't leave much room for Xen, but she didn't necessarily have a problem with that.

On the contrary she was enjoying the close proximity; it was a sweet temptation for the energy reaper. She hadn't fed in days and was nearly panting for want of a feed. The energy flowing from the huge man was enveloping her in a hazy fog that was making her head swim like a boat on stormy waters. His touch was an electric zing down her spine. She was close to begging him for just a moment with her hands pressed to his chest so she could just get a taste of his fire, but restraint held her back. That wasn't what they were there for. Breathing in deeply anyway, she couldn't help when her eyelids fluttered at his scent.

A deep rumbling laugh told her he had noticed her preoccupation.

"I know I'm a looker but if you want to get down and dirty I'd much prefer somewhere else," Riddick said, his silver eyes sparkling. Xen blushed, shaking her head to try and clear it.

"Sorry. I'm just…I haven't fed in a while," she mumbled back.

"I can tell. Let's just stick to the plan and then we can work something out. You said last time you saw the captain he mentioned something about keys to the ship's shuttles."

Xen was momentarily distracted from Riddick's delicious aura by the memory of the last game she had played with Wahls. They had been an hour into cards and he had been drinking. With a little prying she had managed to make him slip that he kept keys to the shuttles on him at all times. Didn't trust his thugs to not break into his quarters and try to escape on him. So far that was their only lead in getting off _The Longshot_. Frye, Jack, Imam, Paris, Zeke, and Shazza were still on board and would need to be informed of the plan before they could leave, something that would need organizing and a lot of luck.

"Yeah, they're probably attached to his belt. Maybe I can tempt him into a game of strip poker or something and snag them on the way out," she said with a wry smile.

Riddick didn't look amused.

"Or I could just wait outside until he leaves to throw a piss and get them the old fashioned way," he suggested evenly. Classic Riddick; a sophisticated, well though-out plan was no match for a good fist to the face. Normally Xen would be inclined to agree but they would have nowhere to go if they were found pummeling in the Captain's head.

"And have every thug in the area know we're up to something, great idea," Xen replied sarcastically. "The man probably goes to the john with backup."

Riddick shrugged a heavy shoulder.

"My way sounds good to me. Nice and simple."

"How about we just play it as we go? Maybe I can get him to bet his keys in the game or something. I'll figure it out."

"I highly doubt he'd be that stupid. Either way I'm waiting at the foot of these stairs for you. If you get the damn keys, great. If not, I go up there and make him bleed for them. I'm done waiting on this fucking ship," Riddick growled. Those silver eyes shone like dark stars in the shadows.

Xen couldn't agree more, but was worried about their friends. If Riddick had to get the keys by force it wouldn't be long before they would have thugs closing in on all sides, destroying any hope of any of them escaping. She would need to think of something fast.

"I can do it," she insisted.

XXX

Minutes later she was standing in front of the captain's door. For all their talk of thugs they were nowhere to be seen. Every other time she had visited there had been at least two guards more than willing to frisk her for concealed weapons. She found their absence suspicious and raised her guard.

A doorknocker shaped like a twisting octopus faced her, its tentacles winding around a wrought iron ring. She gave it a solid knock and waited. Her stomach was already in knots; if she didn't manage to secure the keys they would have to wait and think of another way of getting them, or another way out altogether. They had already been stuck on the ship for weeks and the passing days were just a reminder of their imprisonment. She wanted to breathe real air and taste real food, run barefoot in grass and feel the sun, any sun, on her face again.

An energy presence interrupted her reverie, alerting her that Wahls was approaching the door. She adopted a calm, bored countenance. It wouldn't do to let the captain know she was actively planning something and she wanted to give nothing away. The man was like a bird of prey in the way he observed her actions.

The door was opened, flooding her senses with his familiar energy signature. It revealed a tall man with hair so blonde it was almost white. It was short and messy, looking windswept even though he probably hadn't felt real wind in months. Cold eyes appraised her under proud brows, flicking up and down her figure as he always did. Xen was used to it but still felt mildly uncomfortable. It was followed by a satisfied smirk fashioned from narrow lips that sported a snarling scar running down to his chin. Imposing as he was, the man was handsome in a rugged sort of way.

She realized her game of strip poker wouldn't last too long; he was already shirtless, probably from the heat. Hopefully from the heat. He was lean but well-defined and his chest and abdomen were covered in tattoos. Xen hadn't seen him without a shirt on before and couldn't help but stare. A giant squid, unfamiliar symbols, and a pin-up alien lady with two heads were only a small sample of his collection. They stood out starkly against his alabaster skin and made her think of ink drawings on bleached parchment.

Perhaps she gazed for a little too long as he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"I'm not used to having my workers ogle me Xen," he said quietly. His voice was poisoned honey and thickly accented. She didn't know where he was from but his voice always reminded her of somewhere far away.

Xen snapped her eyes back up to his face, a flush rising in her cheeks. His energy wasn't helping either; it cloaked her in a lazy shroud that made her throat dry.

"Sorry captain," she said. "I've just never seen such detailed work before."

His barking laugh almost made her jump. Moving out of the way so she could enter, Wahls ushered Xen in and closed the door behind her. She almost expected an ambush but his quarters were empty. The cabin smelled of the leaf he liked to smoke, sweet and fragrant, and was filled with assorted furniture that looked expensive. They were gathered from his different smuggling operations throughout the galaxy as he liked to tell her, and all were one of a kind. Lanterns akin to the ones in the stairwell outside lined his walls, burning dimly.

"Detailed work? The smuggler who did it for me was drunk the entire session and took his damn time. Most of these lines are from his mistakes. I appreciate it though."

Xen moved past him through his quarters until she arrived at a polished black wood table standing near the back wall. Tall candles clustered in the middle were weeping wax onto its surface, casting dancing light on a bottle of caramel liquor and two heavy rocks glasses that sat waiting. It was a familiar scene; it was no mystery that Wahls liked to drink and whenever Xen was with him he preferred not to indulge alone. It looked like he was planning on a game of cards as well, for a well-used deck rested beside the bottle. Ideas for escape raced through her head; perhaps she could use the game to her advantage.

She heard the captain approach from behind and turned with a rehearsed smile.

"You know I lose my edge at cards when I drink, captain. I'm afraid it won't be too fair of a game."

"And when are games ever fair?" he replied, his icy eyes boring into hers. "There's always someone who has the upper hand, but that's what makes it interesting."

Something about the way he said it made her think he wasn't talking about cards. It made her uneasy, but she could do nothing as he took her shoulder and guided her into one of the high-backed chairs gathered around the table. He seemed unwilling to look away from her for even a moment, for as he filled the glasses he appraised her as she watched. Xen tried not to squirm under his gaze.

"Forgive my ignorance Xen, but I don't know too much about your kind," he said quietly, sliding a full glass towards her. He waited until she took it before sitting beside her and palming the deck of cards.

"My kind?" she replied, trying to keep a straight face. She had no idea if Wahls knew she was a reaper or not, but she planned on giving nothing away. Each time she had 'visited' with Wahls she expected some kind of questioning. It just made sense; they were captured by a huge smuggling vessel run by thugs and criminals. In fact, the first time she played cards with him she fully anticipated to be interrogated at gunpoint. It never came, nothing about her family, where she came from, not anything. The captain appeared not even to care, seeming to merely want a partner for his card games. The fact that he was probing for information now made her raise her guard like a wolf raising its hackles.

Wahls downed his glass in a single swallow, his eyes never leaving Xen's face.

"Reapers haven't been on my ship in years. It's been at least a decade since I've seen one, I thought they went extinct," he said as he dealt the cards. His voice was too casual, too light, and Xen didn't trust it. So he knew she was a reaper. She supposed it was obvious; her bright yellow eyes weren't exactly human. But why wait until now to talk about her history? It didn't make any sense. She sipped the bitter drink and shrugged.

"That's almost true," she replied carefully, choosing not to lie. "There might be less than a thousand of us now."

"The game is Barquot," Wahls continued as though Xen hadn't said anything. He poured himself another drink and organized the cards in his hand. "You remember – the player with the most cards in the end wins."

Xen was perplexed but fanned the cards in her hand anyway. She didn't know what Wahls was after, but she was planning on getting the keys to the shuttles no matter what. He seemed to be playing a game of his own but she was determined to have things her way, even if she would be grossly outnumbered if he decided to call in his thugs to question her properly. She almost yearned for it; a good fight would be refreshing.

She looked up from her hand to see the captain staring intensely at her, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Your move," he said.


	4. The Enemy

4 – The Enemy

A half hour into the game and Xen was nowhere near procuring the shuttle keys. Wahls had downed six glasses of liquor and was somehow still winning the game. She didn't know how he was doing it. The man kept urging her to drink as she was sipping as conservatively as possible to avoid getting drunk, and refilled her glass every time she sat it down. She despised this and despite her efforts she could feel the small amount of alcohol working its way through her system, making her lightheaded and dizzy. Spirits affected reapers differently than humans – it didn't take much for her to feel its influence. To her oversensitive skin the atmosphere inside the cabin was becoming overheated and the flickering candlelight seemed to be playing tricks on her mind.

Wahls had lit a pipe after winning his second hand and the fragrant smoke was swirling lazily around the pair. Through the haze Xen kept thinking about Riddick somewhere down below, waiting for her. She didn't know how long he would hang around before marching up to the captain's quarters to obtain the keys himself, whether or not it meant spilling blood. He wasn't exactly a man of patience. The keys needed to be taken fast but she still had no idea how she was going to get them; apparently they were somewhere on Wahls' person but she didn't want to rely solely on his previous information and asking politely if the keys happened to be attached to his belt didn't seem like the best idea. At this point she was waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

Wahls threw back his seventh glass and slapped a card down on the table.

"One more round and I'll have you beat, Xen," he said, his voice a little thick. "I thought reapers were supposed to have the upper hand in games of strategy."

Usually that was true; reapers were particularly good at games such as this as the flow of energy made their opponents easy to read, but her depleted condition was making her skills clumsy and thinking a step ahead was difficult. _I need to pull it together_ , she thought desperately. _Everyone's escape is riding on this_.

The drink was making the captain bold and he was eyeing Xen as though she were a choice cut speared above a flame. She didn't like the way his eyes felt, probing and intense, even if he was a decently attractive man. He still hadn't bothered to don a shirt for their visit and his naked tattooed chest was distracting at best; Xen's hunger was getting the better of her. She kept picturing herself straddling his waist and grasping his neck to siphon his energies to replenish her well of strength. Essentially energy vampires, reapers pulled the life essence from their victims, usually from around the neck as the jugular was one of the main lifelines of the body. Feeding felt _very_ good and she could feel her skin tighten over her bones as she thought about it.

Her species generally looked human in form unless starved. Functioning in both the physical and energetic realm, the energy of others maintained that precious equilibrium. Like the Elemental race, balance was everything to a reaper. When denied for long periods however, they morphed into a last-ditch-effort form designed to feed immediately; the eyes enlarged and brightened, muscles bunched under tensed flesh, and senses soared to uncanny levels. Fingertips curled into inch-long claws, all the better to secure their victim. They became a being bent on nothing else.

Xen was beginning to feel the effects of it herself as she hadn't fed for over a week. A hot throbbing was developing behind her eyes and she could tell they were beginning to burn a more intense yellow. The ugly sensation of cotton-mouth travelled down her throat and she ran her tongue over dry lips, wincing at the pang of hunger that came not from her stomach but every cell in her body. The delicate fluctuations of energy that were normally stabilized within her were grossly skewed and her survival instincts were kicking in. She broke into a cold sweat and moved restlessly in her chair, hardly able to focus on the cards in her hand.

Wahls, ever watchful, raised an eyebrow.

"I know it's a strong drink, but you've barely finished a glass."

Xen managed a weak smile.

"I, ah, guess I'm a little out of my element this evening. Skipped breakfast."

Wahls' tilted his head as he appraised her while smoke trickled out of his nostrils. With her auburn hair, pastel skin, and golden eyes, she looked unearthly and he had a particular penchant for unique finds while on his travels. Examples lined the walls; his cabin was full of various goods from around the galaxy, all of them one of a kind and it had crossed his mind more than once that a reaper would make an excellent addition to his collection. It really was too bad that he had made other arrangements for her.

"Skipped breakfast to meet with Riddick again?" he replied, his voice soft and dangerous. Without meeting her eyes he casually shuffled the deck of cards, his long fingers making it look easy. The air had suddenly shifted from a playful nature into a tense one and Wahls knew he had the upper hand.

An unsettling dropping sensation in the pit of her stomach made Xen shift uneasily in her seat. Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together into a hard line. _Shit, how did he know that?_

"Riddick? No, I haven't seen him for weeks. We're on totally opposite work schedules," she lied quickly. Her heart had begun a quickened pace within her and it was making her flush. _Damn that telling organ_ , she thought miserably. Wahls was thinking something similar for what he said next made her wish she had just kicked him in the groin and stolen the keys off his twitching body when he first opened the cabin door.

"You're not much of a liar, Xen. However Toombs, despite the dog that he is, needs little incentive to tell the truth. I know for a fact that you've been meeting with Riddick regularly and it doesn't take much to guess what you're discussing so secretly."

Xen tried to remain composed but couldn't think of a response. Of course it was true; every chance the pair had they were hiding away under staircases or behind boilers to try and come up with some kind of escape plan. They had always tried to be inconspicuous and never go to the same place twice but it looked as if their efforts were for naught. She ground her teeth together at the thought of Toombs; the nasty rat. If she ever got out of this alive she was going to make him wish he had never opened his dirty mouth to the captain.

Deciding that playing stupid wasn't going to work she set her cards down on the table and crossed her arms, facing Wahls with eyes like a trapped tiger while her deceiving heart drummed against her ribs. She didn't know how she was going to get out of this situation but she'd be damned if she let Wahls win. Coming clean would be the best play at the moment and maybe she could even work out some kind of deal that would at least save their skins.

"Okay. You're right. It looks like you have Toombs wrapped around your little finger. So what happens now?" She tried to sound seem as unimpressed and indifferent as possible. This was proving to be a difficult task as her body was screaming at her to feed and Wahls' aura was pulsing around him like a neon sign that read 'Easy Meal.' She struggled not to focus on the firm muscles in his neck.

"Unfortunately I can't have my workers ah, fraternizing. You understand," he replied, giving her a reproachful smile. He looked down at his cards as if they were still playing the game and shrugged, fanning out his hand on the table to reveal a game winning set. "I was going to allow Riddick to remain on this ship as he's perfect to work the docks but I understand he's managed to escape several high-security slams and I'm not willing to risk it him with what I'm transporting. I imagine he's only behaving himself because you're around, so removing you from the equation would only make him difficult. That little stunt he pulled in the cargo bay sealed his fate."

He paused to smirk at Xen's apprehensive expression. If Wahls' words weren't bad enough she was beginning to sense a vibration coming from below and it wasn't the usual flow of energy within the ship. Her senses strained and the cold steel of trepidation heightened.

"Luckily we've crossed paths with some…sympathetic buyers. When they knew that the criminal Riddick and an energy reaper were aboard they offered a generous amount. It was quite substantial; I couldn't refuse." He almost looked sorry.

The vibration grew in strength until it was rattling in Xen's bones. The energy causing it was nothing she had ever felt before; it was bitter and unfeeling, a power that sunk into her skin like a poison. She felt it coming from the ground level below, potent like the stampede of elephants. The amber liquid rippled in their glasses as the hosts of such an energy charged up the wooden staircase to the captain's cabin.

Xen gripped the arms of her chair, eyes now wide and on the edge of fear. _What was happening?_ Wahls had abandoned his cards and was looking at her with a strange expression on his face, like a mix of satisfaction and regret at once. She swallowed down the panic that was rising in her throat and met his gaze.

"Toombs said you had something to give me," she said, sounding almost desperate. She knew the time to negotiate was gone. Wahls had planned this from the beginning and had no intention of bargaining. He raised a shoulder casually, tipping more booze into his glass.

"I'm giving you what you want, Xen," he said lightly. "I'm getting you off this ship."

The cabin door burst open with a bang. Xen jumped in her seat as half a dozen well-armored soldiers rushed into the room with heavy plasma guns raised as if they were planning on executing her where she sat. They marched loudly through the cabin and halted when they surrounded the table, their cold energy swirling around her like pacing predators. Each wore a plated visor that covered their faces, revealing only their blank eyes that felt no pity or compassion. In one fluid motion they aimed their weapons at her head, evicting a snarl from the reaper as she balked and slowly put her hands in the air. She recognized the armor and weaponry; these were world-enders, a race that travelled from system to system converting all they came across to their dark faith. Necromongers. She was more than familiar with their savage ways and being in the same room with a bloody party of them was disconcerting at best.

 _Well this is perfect,_ she thought, her eyes flickering from one guardsman to the other. Her flimsy plan had fallen apart like a castle made of cards and she was at a loss as to what to do. Being surrounded by enemies on all sides with no defenses wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, and being on the verge of passing out from hunger wasn't helping either.

"I truly am sorry Xen," Wahls said, swallowing his drink in one go. For all the ruckus he was calm and composed as ever, despite being drunk. "You're quite lovely but the price they paid was well, exquisite. I imagine they have your friend Riddick by now as well."

Xen's blood ran cold. She didn't have time to focus on Riddick's fate though, for the stomping of boots sounded near the cabin door and a tall figure entered the room.

He was an imposing man, armored like his soldiers but void of a helmet. Raven black hair was shaved on the sides and long at the top, slicked down the back of his neck. It contrasted with pallid skin that held an edge of greyness that couldn't have been human, or may have been human once. Black eyes like polished onyx stared at her unblinkingly, sizing her up. Making eye contact felt like she was sinking into a dark void where nothingness dwelt. Twin markings below his ears, scars of the Necromonger faith, confirmed Xen's fears. This man was one of their leaders, Commander Vaako, and she recognized him immediately.

He stopped in front of her and looked down with a curled lip.

"So this is the reaper," he said in a voice devoid of emotion. "Disappointing. Did I overpay you, Captain?"

Vaako's voice was quiet but held a commanding tone that was heard easily throughout the silent room. It demanded obedience. For the first time that night Wahls looked uncomfortable. Despite being quite intoxicated he managed to straighten in his seat and eye Vaako cautiously.

"I didn't say she was a healthy reaper, I just said she was one," he replied gruffly. "I don't think she's fed in a while - "

He was interrupted by Vaako swiftly stepping forward. The Commander of the Necromongers grabbed Xen's face with one hand, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and turned her head from side to side. His heavily-gloved fingers bit into her cheeks painfully and she cursed the tears that welled in her eyes.

"You're one of the last of your kind, reaper," he breathed, bringing his face unpleasantly close to hers. She could smell the death on him like a disease. "Take solace in the knowledge that you will be serving a higher order."

Her yellow eyes burned into his black ones with disdain and she felt rage bloom inside her like a vengeful flower. She remembered what his kind did to hers, the extermination on her home planet. She had been but a child but she remembered the screams, the explosions, the terror, and his face. If she was ever to join a people that did that to others she would die first.

"I'll never serve you," she hissed through clenched teeth. Vaako released her and stepped back with a cruel smile. He made a small hand gesture and in a moment two of his soldiers grabbed Xen by the arms and yanked her up out of the chair. Her weak body protested but she wasn't strong enough to fight them off. She panted in their hold, trying not to wince at their tight grip. Her stare at Vaako was made of daggers and she bared her teeth at him like an animal.

"I'm afraid you have no choice," he replied darkly. "We haven't encountered a reaper in many cycles. After we convert you, and we _will_ convert you," he emphasized with the confidence of saying this to many a race, "you'll serve us in any way we see fit. In fact, reapers are quite beneficial to us. Take her to the ship," he commanded with a knowing leer, and his next words made her pale with fear. "She'll make a perfect addition to the Quasi Deads."


	5. The Dame

5 – The Dame

Riddick awoke in a cold room chained to a wall of smooth black marble. The first breath of consciousness came out in a cloud and goosebumps erupted over his skin. It did nothing to quell his temper, which rose swiftly inside him like a breaching shark. _They have Xen_ , the mantra circled through his head mercilessly. Venomous anger rolled through him along with a splitting headache and he pulled at his restraints uselessly, seething like a caged animal. _If they hurt her…_

He was shackled tightly with his arms spread and legs out straight in front of him, held fast to the wall and floor. The chains were heavy and cut into his skin with their sharp edges, adding just a little more blood to his dripping collection. Warm and sticky, it trickled down his temples and from both arms onto the dark floor courtesy of various wounds. The pain from them throbbed throughout his body but he didn't have time to think about it. To top it off his goggles were missing. A growl sounded deeply in his chest; this fucking sucked.

 _He was waiting for Xen to work her magic with the captain and steal his keys._ Not too difficult a task _, he thought. Little did he know it was proving difficult indeed._

 _A little cramped but safe from prying eyes, he was crouched underneath the first run of slanting stairs that led up to the captain's cabin. A while had passed since she had left him and he was beginning to grow suspicious that something had happened to her, or was happening. His mind kept conjuring up images of her in various situations of grave danger; getting stabbed, poisoned, shot, seduced, etc. The latter made him particularly irate and gave him an excuse to picture murdering Wahls in interesting, painful ways. Cursing his overactive imagination, he ground his teeth together. Nothing had suggested anything uncivil; his delicate hearing had picked up nothing that could be interpreted as malicious. Their muffled voices were still heard through the boards, sounding calm enough. If the captain so much as touched one hair on her head, however, Riddick swore inwardly that he was going to make him mourn several fingers and much of that pretty face._

 _The other survivors of the crashed Hunter-Gratzner flashed in his mind as he tried to formulate an escape plan that revolved around Xen's success of attaining the shuttle keys. They were still on the ship, forced to work hard labor like the rest. If he was on his own his concern for other people would be distant and far between; normally he had no use for tag-alongs. Made it too complicated as they were a liability and his trust for others ran paper thin. However, he had been through things with these individuals, made relationships with them. They deserved to know. If he and Xen somehow did manage to grab a shuttle and go, what were they going to do about Jack, Imam, Frye, the rest of them? Leave them to rot on this ship, to work themselves to death? Riddick knew he sure as shit wasn't coming back to_ The Longshot _after departing it, it would be a stupid and needless risk. They would be abandoning their friends if they left now though and the idea sent prickles of unfamiliar guilt washing over him._

 _Groaning softly, he ran a hand over his face and decided that if Xen came back empty handed he wasn't going to wring Wahls' neck for the keys. He wanted to wring his neck anyway, but that was beside the point. Everyone needed to be informed of a plan before anyone shuttled off the freighter. If he were running solo his instinct would be to barge into Wahls' cabin, snap his neck where he sat, grab the keys for himself, and vacate the ship without another word but things had changed. He had people to protect now. People that deserved to live freely in a place not based on slavery. Perhaps he felt so strongly because he had been through too many slams to forget the feeling of yearning for freedom; it was a desperation that no one should have to feel, young ones especially. It could eat one from the inside out like a ravenous parasite. Xen and Jack's faces bloomed in his mind, clear as day. He wasn't going to leave them in hell after they had just escaped it; somehow he was going to get everyone off this damned ship._

 _A vibration was suddenly felt through the boards beneath his feet as if from an earthquake. It came with a dull throbbing hum that made him realize an enormous ship was approaching the cargo hauler. That was saying something for the hauler itself was massive; from the strength of the shaking, the fucker was a behemoth and was apparently preparing to transport many units at once. Riddick knew the sound of a bulk transport when he heard one._ The Longshot _was caught in its energy beam and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Every sense on high alert, he palmed the metal shivs that were tucked behind his ankles and surveyed the area from between the stair slats. He knew that sound, and what followed. Enemies would soon be appearing like popcorn, one after the other, and Riddick was going to be ready. People were fleeing the area and looking around anxiously as if they knew it too._

 _With another wavering hum, the next blink of the eye revealed dozens of Necromonger soldiers with their weapons drawn. They appeared in ribbons of black smoke that lingered for moments before dissipating. Huge and armored, the men looked indestructible and carried various weapons that would make any average person surrender without question. As one unit, they turned their heads towards Riddick and marched towards him with blank, grey eyes as if they could see him through the stairs. They surrounded the wooden structure and aimed their weapons at him simultaneously. He had no idea how they knew his exact location, but that no longer mattered. Xen was his next immediate thought, and it came with a concern that bordered on the edge of panic, another emotion that destabilized him like a powerful wind bending a tree to its will. The feeling was so strong; the yearning to protect her was so fierce, that he felt it in his chest like a heart attack. He saw more soldiers racing up the stairs to the only room where she was holed up with the captain and knew she was in trouble._

 _He managed to kill two immediately, catching them by surprise. Apparently they didn't expect one outnumbered man to fight back and were preparing for an easy capture. All it took was a quick leap forward paired with an upward thrust from both shivs up into the delicate skin of the lower jaw, where the armor was weakest. Blood spurted in a warm gush over his fists and the bodies dropped like bags of bricks. The other soldiers rushed him and as he fought he realized they were trying to take him alive, otherwise they would have just fired their plasma guns and been done with it. Not one to go quietly, he succeeded in seriously injuring a few others before getting his head smashed with a large club-like weapon from behind. All he knew next was darkness and pain._

His lip curled at the thought. That had really fucking hurt. The throbbing in his head drummed in response.

Shining silver eyes took in his surroundings. Shadows pressed in on all sides but he could easily see the shackles that lined the walls and floor. The room was hexagonal in shape, windowless, and soared dozens of feet up into blackness. For all the space, he was alone. _Probably want to hold me for questioning, leave me alone for a while until I weaken up a bit_ , he thought. _Fat chance_.

Even for a holding cell it held a dark elegance that could only come from an enemy so devastating that they left entire planets dead in their wake. _Necromongers_ was the dreaded word whispered from all those unfortunate enough to know of them. It looked like their twisted refinement found its way to their prisoner's chambers as well. He didn't particularly give a fuck whose prisoner he was however, he just cared about figuring out a way to escape.

His expression darkened as Xen's face flashed in his mind and something primal rose within him like a cobra rising and ready to strike. He would save that fury, keep it burning inside until the right time came to unleash it. He had seen another squad march up to the captain's quarters so he knew she had been taken as well; he just didn't know where. It filled him with a completely foreign feeling, helplessness, and that among anything else, scared him. _If they hurt her I'll murder everyone on this fucking ship_ , he thought dangerously. _She's mine._

In the few long months aboard _The Longshot_ he had begun to regard Xen as more than just someone to survive with; he considered her a partner in more ways than one and being apart from her made him feel strange, alone. Well, he had been alone most of his life but _loneliness_ was something he rarely felt. She could make it disappear like a streak of pure sunshine through a storm cloud but now it pressed around him, a quiet despair.

As he thought this, a loud clanking sounded and a door was opened across from him. Cold light spilled onto the floor broken by a shapely silhouette dressed in a glittering golden gown. The sudden illumination sent shards of pain piercing into his sensitive eyes and he clenched them shut with a growl. The scent of a woman washed over him, spiced with cinnamon and smug with power. It was pampered, perfumed, and darkly beautiful. He drew it hungrily into his lungs, pulling it to the back of his throat where he could taste it, memorizing it so that when he managed to escape he would know who to come for first.

The door swung shut with a solid slam and Riddick was able to open his eyes again. Glaring spitefully, his gleaming eyes assessed his visitor.

The woman's stride was easy and confident as she approached him. Like a lioness lazily approaching wounded prey, his restrained condition made her unconcerned with her own safety and he stored that knowledge away for later. Her stance and posture oozed a privileged upbringing, with shoulders held back to flank a sinuous spine as she swanned towards him. This woman was used to getting what she wanted and Riddick knew this without her ever having to say a word.

Stopping in the triangular space formed between his arms and the rest of his body, she put a delicate hand on her hip and looked down at him with cool eyes of burnt umber. They were wreathed in black, making them appear larger and more dramatic. It didn't take much to tell that she thought him far beneath her, for her expression suggested she had just stepped in something unpleasant.

"They talk about you as if you're special," she murmured in a voice of silk, "but I must admit I expected something different. For a breeder you're as common as the rest of them."

Apart from her distasteful countenance, a hostile beauty shone through like the moon on a stormy night. The gorgeous golden number she was wearing contrasted well with the color of her skin, a creamy bronze that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the cell they were in. It was patterned with hexagons and fit skin-tight to her every curve. Long dark braids were pulled up into an elegant plait that fell down her slender back, revealing a proud face that held a self-righteous air. Thin lips formed a distasteful line as she weighed him with her eyes and Riddick discovered he would love nothing more than to turn that beauty into something ugly.

The tone of her voice made it seem like she were merely talking to herself as she appraised him.

"Why don't you unchain me then and I can show you just how special I am," Riddick rumbled. Muscles tensed under his flesh as he imagined how many pieces he could break her into.

The relative silence of the cell was broken by her delicate laughter. She lowered herself gracefully in front of him and stroked his cheek with a manicured finger as one would stroke a beloved pet. Annoyance swept through him but he kept it in check. Perhaps pretending to be interested in this Necromonger whore would give him a tactical advantage. He breathed deeply, inhaling more of her scent, and met her gaze with his silvery one, holding it fast. The effect was promising; her lips parted slightly and her pupils dilated indicating more than casual interest. Obviously she didn't think him as common as she had declared.

"Beautiful eyes. I see what all the fuss is about now," she said quietly, her eyes searching his face. "Your little friend wouldn't stop going on about you. A little sad, really."

Riddick's jaw tightened at the mention of Xen.

"Tell me where she is," he growled, muscles taut at his restraints.

"Don't worry, you'll see her soon enough," she cooed with false comfort. Her face was a mask of compassion. "We just want to ask you some questions first."

"Fuck you," he replied evenly. He knew that anything he would say wouldn't be believed; after all, they knew he was a convict on the run and lying was one of the many weapons useful in keeping himself alive. They would expect treachery and Riddick was going to give them nothing less.

The woman's expression turned to one of indignation at his reply but it was quickly smothered by a guise of sweetness.

"The easier you make this, the sooner you will see her."

"I ain't answering any questions until you give _me_ some information," he retorted.

"Oh no darling, I'm not one for interrogations. I prefer to watch," she said softly, leaning forward so that their faces were inches apart. Her scent enveloped him in a swirl of cinnamon. Repulsed, he urged himself to keep still as she brushed his lips with hers.

"Are you this friendly with all your prisoners?" he asked, his mouth still moving against hers.

Pulling away slightly, she sneered at him with a glint of malice in her eyes.

"Interesting breeder. Let's see how amused you are when you see your pretty friend converted. It only takes eight hours…maybe afterwards you'll be willing to give us something useful. If not, I'm sure we can persuade you in other ways."

Smirking at Riddick's furious expression, she rose and with an uncanny swiftness was gone from the room.


	6. The Conversion

6 – The Conversion

Xen sluggishly ascended to consciousness as if it were a deep pool she was struggling to rise from. Endlessly deep and mercilessly cold, it kept pulling her back down every time she managed to gain a little ground. Her chest was going to burst. Unseen fire licked at her skin like a lover and she writhed at the sensation, feeling it burn and soothe impossibly. It was pain and pleasure at once, a feeling that had no name.

Her eyes reluctantly opened and for a moment she saw only darkness. A few moments passed, bringing a little more clarity; light was trickling in from somewhere overhead but it was dim and cold. Confusion mixed with the swimming sensation in her head. _Where am I…?_

There was a tightness in her shoulders that made her groan and she realized she was suspended dozens of feet in the air above a shadowy pit, contained in some kind of metallic chamber built for one. Black walls surrounded her on all sides, smooth like a lake on a still night. She could see her distorted reflection and glowing yellow eyes in the panel before her. Metal clamps were secured just above her elbows, pulling her arms up uncomfortably while her legs were free to dangle helplessly below. Some kind of vice was holding her head in place but she could angle her head down enough to see that she was wearing different clothing. Dark gray slacks with a matching long-sleeved shirt replaced her shorts and tank top from earlier. The idea of being undressed by strangers made her skin prickle but the way her body was feeling quickly made her forget her new outfit.

The transformation brought on by starvation was beginning to take hold in earnest. Each breath was ragged in her chest and burned as if filled with smoke. Her skin was a hot, smothering suit that was much too tight and she could feel cords of muscle bulging under the flesh, threatening to tear it. An unbearable heat was growing in her core despite the frigid atmosphere of the chamber, making sweat bead on her temples. Needle-like pain threaded through her gums as twin fangs descended to prick her bottom lip, readying for the transfusion. The throb was sweet and made her imagine plunging into someone's neck to draw their energy like blood. The very thought made her whimper with want and she flexed her newly borne claws.

She had never gone this long without feeding before. _How long had it been? A week? More?_ Thinking about it made her head hurt, but not as much as thinking about Riddick did.

A knot constricted in her stomach; where was he? Wahls had told her that he had been taken, too drunk to notice he was giving away valuable information. She only hoped that there was a chance Riddick could be on the same ship as her, if she was even on a ship, and that he wasn't hurt. Her vengeance was only overshadowed by her concern for him that ached like a twisting knife in her side. Her surroundings gave her no indication either way. Rage boiled under her constricting skin and she wouldn't have been surprised if it started bubbling; once she got out of here she was going to hunt down their captors one by one and make them wish they had never heard the word 'reaper.'

Before she could think of anything else a whirring sounded on either side of her. Panic rose like bile and she struggled to see what was happening. A metallic glint was suddenly in view, reflected in the wall. Soon it was seen in her peripherals as well and she choked down a scream as she understood what they were. Two foot long spikes were closing in on her neck, moving slowly and steadily toward the soft skin just below her ears. This was a conversion chamber. She was about to receive the mark of the Necromonger.

XXX

"Everyone always looks so nervous before being marked," Dame Vaako murmured softly, one hand on Riddick's shoulder. "Soon she'll understand how one pain can lessen another."

Her petal-soft words echoed in the small room they occupied. It was a simple black box built seemingly for the only purpose of watching converts receive the faith scars. They were mere feet from where Xen was suspended, hanging like an animal left to bleed out. A one-way mirror allowed them viewing access into the conversion chamber as though her suffering was a delightful show. To the reaper she was alone in the world, her expression twisted with fear and hunger, struggling uselessly against her bonds with only her distorted reflection for company.

Riddick's skin was crawling as he knelt on the black marble floor, chained tightly with a metal bit between his teeth. He wanted to jerk out of the Dame's unpleasant touch but he couldn't take his eyes off of Xen's face. This was the first time he had seen her since being captured and the emotions he felt swelled in his chest, choking him and threatening to burst. The first thing he felt when the panel had slid back to reveal Xen was blind fury that stung his eyes and made his throat constrict. The Necromonger whore was making him watch as they tortured her, making her receive the mark against her will. It was beyond fucked up. The willing converts were bad enough, even if they only agreed because refusal meant death. To wake up to such a thing would be terrifying.

The second was alarm at how feral she looked. The pained grimace she wore revealed sharp fangs that looked lethal. Her eyes were glowing yellow slits in her head and he was shocked to see once-dainty fingers twisted into deadly claws. They were obvious signs that she needed to feed, and soon. He didn't know exactly how long it had been since she had a transfusion, but he guessed it had to be at least several days. Life on _The Longshot_ made discreet feeding difficult for her and the inconsistency of solid meals meant a weak reaper. Worry burrowed in his head like a parasite; what would happen if they denied her too long? A shudder rippled down his skin at the thought. He would personally see to it that she drained as many Necromongers as he could lay before her, starting with the witch in the golden dress.

"The act of conversion is in itself perfect, is it not so, dear husband?"

With an air of complacency Dame Vaako inclined her head to the looming man beside her.

Commander Vaako stood stiffly, one fist gripped in the other behind his back as he faced the conversion chamber, although Xen wasn't his subject of focus. Narrow eyes were trained on his wife's hand as it reposed on Riddick's shoulder but he lowered them at her statement. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

"Indeed it is, Dame Vaako," he replied darkly, his voice clipped.

Before he had even finished the short words she had dipped down to Riddick's level and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. Riddick could smell Vaako's own fury at that.

"The numbing spikes are inserted an inch into the skin just below the ear, into the great auricular nerve," she breathed. "It's a fascinating thing. Pain is eliminated. All for a mere eight hours of discomfort, even though the last few are merely to remind them of the pain they're leaving behind. The process does drain the color of the skin and eyes but the benefits far outweigh our pallor, don't you think, breeder?"

With a smug glance behind her she brushed her lips against Riddick's throat. The question was directed at him this time even though the bit prevented him from answering. His skin prickled at her cold touch. Were he not in his present situation he would have smirked at the sound of Vaako's carefully controlled breathing; the man was losing it over his wife nuzzling into another mans' neck, and rightly so. Riddick sensed a play of dominance and knew the Dame was just using him as a ploy to get what she wanted, which was Vaako's undivided attention.

"You'll see for yourself after the conversion is complete," she murmured, "although she might not be…entirely herself. Be glad for her though; this chamber was built for high-ranking members so she won't have to dangle with the commoners. We have special plans for her, you know. I'll see you again in eight hours, Riddick."

Riddick's look promised vengeance. If stares could murder, she would be dead on the floor.

She whispered her lips against his ear with the lightest of laughs before standing gracefully. Her cinnamon scent followed, of which Riddick was grateful. The swift movement was broken by Vaako who immediately grabbed her by the arm. Riddick could hear his biting retorts as he pulled her towards the door and couldn't care less about their pathetic relationship. Soon enough, he would be ending it.

A whirring sound distracted Riddick from the pair as they exited. Snarling around the bit, his chest heaved as he saw the two metal spikes emerge from the walls and move slowly towards Xen's neck. Despite being shackled fast with his wrists bound behind him he tried to lunge in her direction but to no avail. The bit in his mouth dug into the soft flesh of his tongue but he hardly noticed its bite. All his senses were centered on her.

Xen had seen the spikes and was beginning to panic. Her legs were free of restraints but in her weakened condition she could barely kick her feet. The clamp around her head prevented her from avoiding the spikes and she could only whimper in fear and struggle uselessly. From her elevated position her eye level was a few feet above Riddick's head but as it became harder to hold her head up she tilted her face down to where she was almost matching his gaze.

The need to hold her tightly, to whisper comforting words that would banish the look that was lurking in her eyes, was great. It was fear, desperation, and a hunger that no longer looked human.

When the sharp metal points penetrated her skin, she cried out in a voice that didn't sound like her own. It was animalistic, primal, _predatory_. And it made Riddick's blood boil as he growled loudly in response.

Guilt and helplessness pressed against the insides of his skull, reminding him of his own inability to protect her, coiling like a sickness in his stomach. _They're going to pay for this. For every second she suffers in that chamber, they will suffer it ten times over._

As he stared at the blood that dripped down her neck to match the tears that were falling from her eyes, he knew he was going to kneel for the full eight hours and build up as much fury as he could muster against the ones that were doing this to her. Her pain would be his ammunition and he wouldn't stop until she was satisfied that enough Necromongers had paid the price for their cruelty.

Just another seven hours and fifty minutes to go.


End file.
